The Magnificent Showboats (8 page)

Zamp followed her out on deck. The sun had set behind the low banks of the Lant; twilight sky reflected on the water. Zamp called Bonko and gave orders for the evening: “The wind seems fresh and fair; we will sail until night grows dark, then anchor in the stream. Put out robber nets and post a four-man look-out. This is nomad country, and vigilance is necessary.”

Zamp took the guitar to the quarterdeck and sat for a half-hour playing idle chords, but Damsel Blanche-Aster after standing at the bow returned aft and went below to her cabin.

On the afternoon of the second day out of Lanteen Port Whant appeared on the north bank: a cramped cluster of two- and three-storied houses constructed of timber and plastered stone, with roofs meeting and joining and slanting at every angle. Zamp had arrayed
Miraldra’s Enchantment
in its most festive guise. Screens of withe and wood towered above the midship gunwales to suggest an imposing castle; aloft fluttered flags and bunting of white and green: the colors least offensive to the Whants.

With maximum display,
Miraldra’s Enchantment
approached the Port Whant dock, flags fluttering, tumblers cart-wheeling to the music of belphorns, drums and screedles. Back and forth across the triatic stay marched acrobats carrying advertising placards and the emblem of Port Whant. The girls of the troupe lined the parapets of the simulated castle, wearing gowns of pale blue, to indicate a state of demure chastity.

A dozen or so folk from the town sauntered out upon the docks. They wore shapeless cloaks of dark brown furze and stood in small silent groups; Zamp signaled his troupe to even greater efforts.

The boat glided up to the dock; hawsers were dropped over bollards; the vessel was warped close to the dock and made secure. Meanwhile the troupe exerted itself to the utmost. The tumblers leaped, caracoled, turned back-flips; the acrobats pretended to fall from the stay, catching themselves by one last grasp; the girls, now in transparent hip-length smocks of pale blue gauze, to combine the maximum titillation with the minimum provocation, leapt back and forth across the upper windows of the simulated castle.

More folk from the town came out on the dock, hunched in a dour and almost sullen silence. Zamp was not discouraged; each community along the river had its distinctive style: Port Whant was notoriously wary with strangers.

The gangplank was lowered to the dock; Zamp stepped out upon the landing. He looked back over his shoulder and gave a merry flourish of arm and hand; the frenzied demonstration instantly halted and the members of the troupe gratefully descended to the main deck.

Zamp paused a moment, the better to focus the attention of his audience. He wore one of his most elaborate costumes: a wide-brimmed brown hat with a great orange plume; a doublet striped orange and black belted over loose brown breeches, foppish knee-high boots precisely creased and pleated. The faces looking up from the dock expressed neither hostility nor friendliness nor even much interest; Zamp felt only a condition of introverted gloom. Hardly a handsome folk, he thought; both men and women showed pale broad faces, lank black hair, heavy black eyebrows, burly physiques. Still, for all the apparent uniformity of garb and appearance, the sense of personality and self-autonomy was strong: perhaps as a result of the brooding melancholy which Zamp now determined to dispel. He held up his hands. “Friends of Port Whant! I am Apollon Zamp; this is my marvelous showboat
Miraldra’s Enchantment
. We have voyaged up the Lant to bring you one of our unparalleled entertainments.

“Tonight we plan a program which for sheer grandeur may never be surpassed in the long and glorious history of Port Whant!

“Citizens! Tonight we present not one, not two, but a three-part program, each part of supreme elegance. First: the Birdmen, or so they call themselves, for they literally seem to fly through the air. Gravity is no more to them than dirt to a chicken; they leap, they plunge, they hurtle and somersault with grace and aplomb. Secondly, we plan to perform a mischievous little trifle, still totally decorous and nonprovocative, entitled
The Love-ways of Far Climes and Far Times
. I suggest, ladies and gentlemen, that you will be amazed by these absolutely authentic customs — but, naturally, it is all in good fun; our girls wear pale green and pale blue and are merely playing saucy jokes. If anyone considers such a program offensive or suggestive, please communicate with me, and we will substitute an equally amusing alternate piece. Third, and the high point of the evening: that famous drama of hate and passion and woe
Evulsifer
! You will experience poignant realism; you will witness the betrayal of a king, a palace orgy, the death of a traitor in its grisly actuality: a program to edify and instruct the discriminating folk of Port Whant!

“For this grandiose entertainment are we demanding a vast and unreasonable sum? By no means! A single groat per person allows participation in this moving experience. So then! In one hour let us have the entire population of Port Whant here at the dock! Time for all to go home, to spread the news to friend and neighbor, to bring all the family aboard our wonderful showboat!”

Zamp raised his hand; the orchestra played a fanfare. “In one hour then this gangplank will conduct you into a world of colored lights and wonderful happenings! Thank you, my friends, for your attention!” Zamp bowed and swept his plumed hat to the deck. The Whants muttered to each other, and presently departed the dock.

“An odd group!” Zamp told Bonko. “They seem bloodless and apathetic, as if just risen from their death-beds.”

“What says the
River Index
?” asked Bonko.

“The Whants are described as a fiery folk, quick to resent insult. These Whants act as if they had been converted to a religion of abnegation and piety.”

“Here comes an old man; why not put the question to him?”

Zamp inspected the man approaching along the dock. “In all candor, I am reluctant to put any questions to anyone for fear of provoking annoyance. Still, this man seems mild enough.”

Zamp descended to the dock and waited until the old man hobbled past. “Good afternoon, Grandfather; what is the news at Port Whant?”

“The news is as always,” stated the old man. “Murder, capture, defeat, and mischief. Why are you so concerned with our great tragedy?”

“Only so that my company may help assuage your grief,” was Zamp’s glib reply. Evidently even the oldsters could not be taken lightly. “Our drama
Evulsifer
may well purge your souls of useless emotion.”

“Easier said than done. Lop Loiqua is gone, the victim of treachery, and part of our souls are gone with him. Where will we find another to take his place; he who was known as the Scourge of the Vale? The arrival of your boat may well be an omen.”

“Such it is!” declared Zamp heartily. “An omen of entertainment, but no more!”

“Surely you would not think to dictate how we must read omens?”

“By no means! I only ventured to suggest —”

“Your suggestions are irrelevant; you know nothing of us and our habits.”

“I agree with all you say; my only intent is to ensure your good opinion of myself.”

The old man turned on his heel and limped away, only to pause after a few steps and look back over his shoulder. “I will only say this, that your insistent arguments would certainly provoke a man less obsessed with grief than myself!” He went his way. Zamp thoughtfully climbed the gangplank. He summoned his troupe and made an announcement:

“A word regarding our performance tonight and our general conduct. The folk of Port Whant are neither easy nor expansive. Attempt no familiarities; answer all questions ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with a suitable honorific; offer no opinions of your own! The females must wear no hint of yellow; the men must strip from their garments every trace of red. Black is a color of shame and debasement; offer nothing black to a Whant! Do not look at the audience lest they suspect a glare; maintain mild pleasant expressions, but do not affect a smile which might be considered derision. Immediately after the performance we will depart; I would do so now did I not fear their revenge. All now into costumes; play your parts with skill!”

Zamp went aft to his cabin and refreshed himself with a glass of wine. On the quarterdeck stood Damsel Blanche-Aster. Zamp finished his wine and joined her. “Did you hear my remarks? Even as a naked ghost you must display tact.”

Damsel Blanche-Aster seemed bitterly amused. “It is enough that I must display myself before these louts. Must I also appeal to their better natures?”

“If possible, yes! Walk slowly, with an abstracted air; the part need not be overplayed. It is time to get into your costume.”

“In due course. The evening is not warm.”

Zamp went to confer once more with Bonko. “It goes without saying that our emergency system is at the ready.”

“Yes, sir. The pumps are manned; bullocks are at the capstan; crews are stationed at the under-jacks.”

“Very good; be vigilant.”

Half an hour passed. Despite their preoccupations Whants began to assemble on the dock, and when Zamp opened the wicket, they paid the not inconsiderable price of admission without complaint and in an orderly fashion took their seats on the midship deck.

Zamp made the briefest of welcoming speeches and the evening’s program began. Zamp was pleased with his tumblers and acrobats; never had they performed with such precision. The audience, though somewhat sullen, responded with mutters of amazement to some particularly daring feat. All in all Zamp was well-pleased.

The second section of the performance began as smoothly. In deference to the Whants, Zamp had truncated certain of the scenes and altered others, so that essentially the pastiche was little more than a series of courtships, performed in quaint costumes and with whatever picturesque elaborations Zamp had been able to contrive. The audience seemed mildly amused, but showed fervor only at those mildly erotic passages which Zamp had left intact. Still, no one complained or seemed uncomfortable and again Zamp felt that his audience was pleased with the show.

Zamp delivered the prologue to
Evulsifer
with a long blue cape hiding his costume. The orchestra played an obligato of themes from the musical score, and Zamp, now somewhat less apprehensive, prepared for the first act almost with anticipation. Swince had outdone himself with his settings. The great salon at Asmelond Palace was splendid in scarlet and purple and green; the costumes of King Sandoval and his courtiers were almost too splendid.

The court intrigues at first seemed inconsequential; subtly they began to propel the plot until King Sandoval and Prince Evulsifer were caught in tides of emotion they could not control.

Zamp staged the palace orgy with rather more latitude than he had originally planned, but the audience showed only approval, and when the rebel Trantino rose up behind the throne to stab King Sandoval they hissed in horror.

The second act occurred on the Plain of Goshen, before Gade Castle where Evulsifer, accused of complicity in the death of his father, had taken refuge.

In front of the castle the action swirled. Evulsifer fought three duels with successively more ferocious opponents, then came forth by moonlight* for a tryst with his beloved Lelanie. He sang a wistful song to slow chords from his guitar; she swore devotion as changeless as the love which the fabled Princess Azoë had for her lover Wylas. And now Lelanie drew back in horror and pointed up to the battlements. “There walks the ghost of Azoë! It is a portent!”

* Big Planet has no moon; however the concept of moonlight, with all its romantic associations, is engraved deep within the Big Planet psyche.

Zamp also drew back to inspect the battlements and to gauge the quality of Damsel Blanche-Aster’s performance. A curtain of gauze surreptitiously dropped through the dimness blurred the image for the audience; Zamp however was afforded a better view, if from an inconvenient perspective; in any event, he had no fault to find with the quality of this ghost.

The ghost disappeared; Zamp somewhat mechanically spoke his lines and the act concluded with his capture through the perfidy of Lelanie.

Act Three opened with Evulsifer in chains, facing his accusers; he railed and challenged to no effect; he was sentenced to death and chained to a post, and left in solitude. Evulsifer delivered his tragic soliloquy and now Lelanie appeared on the set and the two performed that ambiguous scene which can be played in dozens of ways. Had she come to taunt him and mortify his distress? Was her heart balanced between love and guilt, cruelty and repentance? Did some evil madness compel her to evil? In the end Lelanie approached Evulsifer and tenderly kissed his forehead, then drew back and spat in his face; laughing almost hysterically she fled the scene.

Evulsifer must die at sunrise. Already the sky was flushed with dawn. He spoke his final dismal soliloquy and looked up to the platform where Bonko, costumed and masked as an executioner, prepared his axe and block.

Rays from the sun slanted over the horizon; Evulsifer was unchained from the post. A black cloak was thrown around him and a black hood pulled down over his head, and he was led out through the back of the stage, where the prisoner, similarly cloaked and hooded, had been brought from his cage.

“Must you be so brusque?” he demanded. “Hold back! I have scratched my arm on this splinter; bring me a bandage!”

“A trifle, a trifle,” said Bonko. “This way, if you will.”

The prisoner only kicked and struck out with his elbows; a gag was thrust between his teeth and he was dragged up to the platform where he struggled and groaned in a satisfactorily dramatic manner; four men fought to thrust him down with his neck on the block, dislodging his hood.

The executioner raised his axe; the first rays of the sun shone across the stage. “Strike!” cried the traitor Toraphin. The executioner struck; the head parted from the body, fell free of the hood, bounced off the platform, rolled across the stage to stare out at the audience. Very untidy, thought Zamp; the illusion had been somewhat damaged. Nonetheless, the audience had been profoundly affected; indeed they seemed paralyzed; all sat with bulging eyes fixed on the head. Peculiar, thought Zamp.